


Hands

by forensicleaf



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 17:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11318616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forensicleaf/pseuds/forensicleaf
Summary: Merlin, a recent rape victim, has to go through a TSA aggressive pat-down in an airport when a Backscatter screening machine malfunctions. Arthur is there for the aftermath.





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on LJ more years ago than I care to think about. I'm just having a clean out and moving things over to ao3 as that seems to be where everything has headed now.

“They do what?” Merlin says as he re-reads the sign.

“Yeah, I know.” Arthur sighs. New security measures. “It’s ridiculous, really. Do you know how many people have actually been rightfully apprehended at airports?”

Merlin raises a questioning brow.

“It’s not a whole lot,” Arthur continues, “now they’re treating everyone like terrorists.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, appreciating that Arthur at least has the good sense to lower his voice. Maybe he is just being paranoid, but he doesn’t think that being overheard talking about terrorism in an airport would go down particularly well. Arthur’s right; no one seems to get the benefit of the doubt when it comes to this kind of thing these days. He’s not sure whether or not that’s a bad thing.

“Well, I suppose if you want to fly…” Merlin reasons, even though personally, he’s not very enthusiastic about the new protocols at all.

Arthur makes a noncommittal noise, frowning, and Merlin smirks.

He jolts suddenly as the woman behind him turns to her children, her bag brushing his back. Arthur twists to look at him at the sudden movement, and Merlin shakes his head quickly, eyes down - _don’t bring it up, it was nothing_. Arthur, mercifully, doesn’t.

Merlin chastises his skittishness and tries to ignore Arthur’s badly-concealed, concerned glances as the queue shuffles forward. He knows Arthur’s just worried about him, but the last thing he wants is to pin that burden on him.

They get to the front of the queue, have their passports and boarding cards checked, place their bags on the conveyor belt and wait. Arthur is called forward, and Merlin watches as he disappears round the corner for the security scan.

Merlin is called forward next, and Arthur says loudly so Merlin can hear “I’ll wait, yeah?” before collecting the bags and walking over to the exit.

The security guard instructs Merlin to stand in front of a white screen and demonstrates the position he is to adopt. Arms raised, legs

_legs apart and hands, hands all over him, pinning him down_

Merlin suppresses a shiver and complies. He can feel his heart beginning to increase its tempo, the sound rushes in his ears. Thirty seconds, he reminds himself, thirty seconds and it’s over.

Except that’s not what happens. The guard looks above his head then back at him with a slightly harder expression.

“Step forward please, sir,” he says, with an edge to his voice. And Merlin freezes for a second because something must have happened, something must have gone wrong. He knows how these new machines work, knows that he isn’t wearing or carrying anything that might be incriminating, and can therefore only assume that there has been a malfunction.

“Sir, step forward.” And the guard is looking like he’s about to call for more guards, so Merlin does.

“Look,” he begins to reason, fully intent on requesting another scan, or something. Anything to avoid what he knows is about to happen. His heart flutters wildly against his ribcage and his mouth is dry as he says “I think-”

“Shut up”

_“…up. You shut your fucking mouth. No one can hear you.” Hands in his hair, shoving his face to the floor._

Hands run along his arms, across his chest and around his back as the guard steps closer. It’s too close it’s too close and Merlin can’t

_can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. Bodies heavy on him, holding him down. Breath on the back of his neck. Hands_

Hands across his stomach, the small of his back, and then lower, lower, lower. Arthur is standing by the exit looking both concerned and slightly pissed off and Merlin can’t look at him. He breaks eye contact and looks away, closing his lids tightly. His face burns with shame in the knowledge that Arthur can see him like this; that everyone can see him like this; that they’re all going to know

_“…know what a slut you are. You want it; you know it.”_

He can’t control the tremors running through his body as the humiliating experience continues. Hands in places that he doesn’t want them - places that he can’t even let Arthur touch him again, yet. He hears the murmurs of the people who watch as they pass by, allowed to go on their way unmolested, glad it’s not them. He hears the badly stifled tittering laughter. They’re laughing

_laughing at him as he struggles, tries to fight, tries to get away._

He bites the inside of his lower lip as it starts to wobble. He doesn’t want Arthur to see him cry, he doesn’t want to remember, he doesn’t want to be here. All he can feel is their hands, the breath on the back of his neck.

Their boots and fists once they were done with him.

He feels sick.

Merlin flinches as a hand clamps down on his shoulder. The security guard is standing in front of him, looking vaguely apologetic. Merlin averts his gaze from the other man’s face, keeps his eyes on the floor.

“Sorry sir,” the guard says in a softer tone than his earlier one, “must have been a malfunction.” He gives Merlin two pats on the back of his shoulder, propelling him forward gently. “You can go.”

_“c’mon mate, lets go. He ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He hears them walk away and doesn’t do anything, doesn’t move. He can’t_

Can’t walk straight – his legs are shaking too badly – but he keeps moving because he needs to put as much distance between himself and the scanners and x-ray machines and the… the searches as he can.

Arthur is waiting for him. He’s holding Merlin’s carry-on bag, but makes no move to give it to him as he falls in step beside him. It’s just as well – Merlin’s hands are trembling so badly he’d probably drop it. Arthur is swearing and absolutely furious.

“Fucking piece of shit machines,” he hisses, “If they can’t get them to work right then they shouldn’t have had them installed. It’s just… they just…that…what happened was…” he’s so angry he can’t get his words out.

Merlin isn’t an idiot. He knows that Arthur knows exactly what’s going on in his head right now, probably guessed what was going to happen the second Merlin was held back for… for…searching. He feels colour creeping up his neck, his ears begin to burn as he thinks of Arthur thinking about… that.

The walk to the departure lounge is a blur. Merlin is vaguely aware of the fact that he’s somehow managing to put one foot in front of the other still, and of the unpleasant twisting sensation in his stomach, but he feels disconnected - like he’s on autopilot. It’s the only way he can keep moving.

They walk in silence, both shaken – although for entirely different reasons – until the corridor opens up into the airport’s reasonably sized shopping hub. Among the Duty-Free and various other shops, Arthur finds a block of seats. It isn’t hard to find spare ones – the airport is pretty deserted at this time of night. Merlin sits down shakily and Arthur dumps the bags on a seat two down before sitting in the one next to him.

He leaves space between the two of them, no more than a few inches, and Merlin is overwhelmed by how much he loves his patient, understanding, beautiful boyfriend. Arthur can be a true ass sometimes, but when it comes down to it, when it really matters, he is just wonderful.

He’s been so patient these past two months what with Merlin’s depression, mood swings and withdrawal. Merlin knows it hasn’t been easy for him – they haven’t had sex since the…incident (there was that one time that they tried, because Merlin thought that Arthur wanted it and that he was going to leave if Merlin couldn’t give everything he could before… well, before – but it was too much too soon and it hadn’t ended well at all) and Merlin still finds it difficult to allow himself to be touched.

He wants everything they had before, and he’s not scared of Arthur – that has nothing to do with it – but any contact he isn’t expressly aware of, any intimate touches of any kind and all he can feel is… them. He doesn’t want Arthur, what the two of them have, to be tainted by that.

Sometimes he wishes that they had killed him instead of just leaving him for dead.

Sometimes he feels like they did.

This holiday was supposed to be the first step in re-claiming his life. Arthur had wanted to cancel it, saying that it was too soon, that perhaps they should leave it for a while, but Merlin was adamant that enough was enough.

“Are you okay?” Arthur murmurs from beside him. He places his hand next to Merlin’s on the seat - their skin touching, but just barely.

Merlin wants to nod. He wants to tell Arthur he’s fine. He doesn’t want to worry him.

But there’s a lump clawing its way up his throat and his damn lip is wobbling again and his breathing stutters and his eyes sting and he’s been holding it back since security and he can’t hold it back anymore.

A tear slides down his face, then another, then another. His shoulders shake and he cries silently as the stress of the last half an hour overwhelms him. He feels Arthur shift restlessly beside him – wanting to help, to offer comfort, but waiting until Merlin asks for it.

Surprising both of them, Merlin turns. He buries his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck, arms coming up to wrap around the other man’s back. He feels Arthur stiffen, obviously not expecting the sudden (and amount of) contact, before he hesitantly and gently wraps his arms around Merlin.

It doesn’t feel awkward, or too much, and for the first time in a long time Merlin doesn’t think of anything except the way Arthur smells, or the way his arms feel around him, or how warm he is. How safe.

He’s missed this.

He lets out his fear and frustration, and though he feels guilty for unloading it all on Arthur, it’s inconceivable that he dealt with this all alone for the past two months. He feels Arthur’s cheek press into his hair and leans into it, realising that this might not be what he needed all along, but it’s what he needs now, and Arthur will be there for whenever he needs it again. Arthur will always be there.

He cries for a shorter time than he expected to, and once the last of his tears have soaked into Arthur’s shirt, he pulls back, hands resting on Arthur’s waist. Before he can over-think it, or repress the urge, he leans forward and presses his lips to Arthur’s.

It’s short, and chaste, and nothing like the kisses they used to have, but the expression on Arthur’s face as Merlin pulls away more than makes up for that.

“I love you,” Merlin says. And he looks Arthur in the eyes as he says it, holding his gaze. “So, so much.”

Arthur’s answering smile is breathtaking.

Merlin finds himself smiling back.

It’s not perfect, and they have a long way to go to make it so, but it’s a start.

Merlin is taking back his life


End file.
